


Miracles and Mocha

by MermaidsandMermen (SophiaSoames)



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: Alternate Meeting, Alternate Universe, Druck Fandom Gift Exchange, Falling In Love, M/M, Transgender, coffee porn, coffee shop AU, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21630175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaSoames/pseuds/MermaidsandMermen
Summary: A gift for Neon-Schmetterlinge on Tumblr as part of the Druck Fandom Gift Exchange. My giftee asked for an alternative meeting and idiots to lovers, non explicit. So here goes! Enjoy!
Relationships: Matteo Florenzi/David (Druck)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 90





	Miracles and Mocha

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emeraldandblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldandblue/gifts).

> My gift was delivered this morning too, and is attatched at the end of the fic. Thank you so much!

It's funny how the wind always feels colder in the morning, when the door slams shut, only to open once again, letting the cold waft of wind blow straight through the well-worn jumper he is wearing. It’s December in Berlin, and Saturday crowds are already out in full force, the early morning rush in full swing at Café Haug on Schloss Strasse. The tables are full inside, and there is a queue at the takeaway counter where Mia is already looking stressed, shouting out the orders to Carlos who is baking as fast as he can in the back, throwing out fresh baskets of rolls, which they tend to sell faster than he can replenish them. There are warm pretzel, some smothered in cheese, and of course the freshly brewed coffee to go along with the Berlin people’s favourite morning snacks. Coffee. David’s job. He’s the barista, and he takes his one job very seriously.

Hot Espresso is dripping into warmed cups, only to be poured into larger mugs and blended with hot frothy milk into creations with fancy names. He likes making Cappuccinos. Shaping the foam into clouds and dusting them down with chocolate powder. Adding whipped cream to the Viennese. Trying his best to shape the milk on top of the Latte’s into perfectly shaped hearts. His hearts don’t always work. Sometimes they go all wonky. Sometimes they break. Sometimes they look nothing like what he was aiming for.

Well, it’s not like it’s hard, knocking out espressos on a line, ensuring he has steamed milk on the go at all times, topping up the whipped cream and not dropping his jars of toppings on the floor. He has failed that one already the minute the boy walked through the door, looking a hot mess of too many jumpers and some weird ass scarf thingy that made David all flustered. Yeah. Then he dropped the jar with the crushed toffee topping for today’s Coffee special, and now he’s fucked every time Sara shouts out the Café Mocha Special, which now, well. Comes without the toffee crunchy thingy bits on top, whilst David’s trainers are sticking to the floor and making stupid noises as he shuffles backwards and forwards across the small space behind the coffee machine.

Everyone is different. Every coffee will not taste the same. His foam milk hearts will never quite fit in the small mugs that Café Haug pride themselves on. He wishes he fitted the mould better. That he could produce mug after mug of perfection. Perfection. Well David is not perfect in any shape or form. Which is not the case for the guy who has just walked through the door.

“He’s back.” Sara whispers as he chucks another load of used Espresso grain in the recycling box behind her.

“I saw.” David mutters. Of course, he saw. It’s the only thing he saw, and fuck his fucking life, because it’s the only thing that keeps him from chucking this freaking job in the pan and rediscovering lie ins at the weekend and days off. Not that he really has a choice, now having to pay almost double in rent since he managed to get a flat of his own, and his tuition fee’s and then he has to eat. Well he skips eating a lot of the time, and working here has its benefits, with lots of leftover goodies to take home at the end of the working day. He works long days, just for the leftover bread. He loves the damn bread. Almost as much as he loves seing that blonde mop of messy hair stumble through the door in the morning.

“He’s so hot.” Sara swoons and bats her eyelashes, before sashaying across the floor with a dreamy smile on her face, sweeping past the guy like she owns the place.

He always smiles back, the dude. Not that he is a boy, because to David he is all man. Broad shoulders and a cute little nose, and eyes to die for hiding underneath that floppy fringe of his. He’s the most beautiful thing that David has ever seen, a fragile human being veiled in a cloak of badly disguised shyness. Well that bit is David’s head birthing poetry that he should really ensure never spills out of his mouth. Instead he whistles carelessly as he loads up three more espresso’s, the machine humming gently as the hot liquid starts filling the small paper cups that he has already placed underneath. 

“Small filter coffee.” The man orders, dropping his change on the counter for Mia to scoop up.

David’s face is already burning, and he hasn’t even looked up. If he does, then the guy is usually smiling at him, making silly faces and peeling off his jacket and jumpers before plonking that perfect arse of his onto one of the chairs by the window. He always sits there. Always has a small filter coffee. Always smiles politely at Sara as she puts the coffee down in front of him. David can’t watch. Can’t look. Doesn’t dare to.

“Café Viennese, Espresso, Double Espresso!” He shouts instead and smiles politely to the customers waiting on the other side of the counter.

He works. Time becoming nothing. He’s here, this boy, sharing oxygen with David’s pathetic daydreams, and it’s like his brain is churning thoughts through cotton wool, all drawn out and slow.

“Two latte, one with soy, three double Espresso, one French press and a Hot chocolate!” Mia shouts as David rolls his eyes, and nervously scratches his arm. Yeah. Because the dude is leaving. Again.

He’s spent his time here, sipping his black coffee with his nose in his phone like he always does. Almost like he’s trying to draw out his time, making his one drink last as long as he can. He never orders a second, never looks up. Never looks back when David for a second dreamily stares his way. It’s almost like he likes sitting here in the warmth looking out over the street and the entrance to Boulevard Berlin across the road, with its’ expensive designer shops and unattainable beautiful people milling out with their shopping bags.

David’s not much of a shopper. Nor is this guy, David can tell, as he is wrapping that scarf thingy around his neck.

He looks dishevelled. Messy. Probably a student. Or maybe he is rich and just enjoys walking around in dirty jeans. Yeah, because David notices, just like he notices the holes in the sole of his favourite trainers, and the torn laces on his chunky boots that leak when it rains. He wishes he could afford to buy a proper pair of warm shoes for winter, almost as much as he wishes the guy would look up at him. Just look at him. Smile just for him, not just a half-hearted smirk under his fringe as someone hands him his coffee.

He wishes a lot of things. Not that any of them will come true, despite the cheery Christmas music singing songs of miracles and joy.

When you are a loser like he is, then miracles? They just don’t happen to loser humans like himself.

Sunday morning is dead quiet, and Mia is perched on a stool reading, whilst the counter is gleaming from her polishing, and Carlos baskets are full of warm bread rolls, the patisserie trays beautifully laid out and Sara is stacking the paper bags under the counter whilst David just stands there with his hands in his pockets.

‘’I’m so bloody bored.” Sara whines as she opens another box of bags, and carefully lays them into their designated slots. “Come on, tell me something juicy. Know any good gossip?”

“Nope.” David replies defiantly. Bloody gossip. He could tell her some gossip. Not that he will, because the juicy gossip inevitably leads to bigger gossip and David standing in the corner like a fool. He tried that before. Being honest about who he is and what he likes and why he can’t work Tuesday afternoons when he has therapy and how he isn’t doing Christmas this year because he has to go in and have surgery. Not that his family care, because he hasn’t told them. Yeah, it’s not the kind of things he wants people to know. Especially here where he has by some divine miracle managed to keep his cool, and his carefully crafted persona intact. Even Herr Gottshalk who employed him, had bought his excuse of why the name on his certificates and paperwork was, yeah. Slightly different to the name he wears on his name badge. Herr G had been cool. Just raised an eyebrow and clearly read David’s squirming as embarrassment and discomfort, and just said, fine. David. Good name, let’s just go with that.

Thank god for that, because this job has been the first time, he has felt comfortable. Like he fits in with who he really is. Because he doesn’t have to try, he just exists. Laughs along with the girls about the hot dudes and the crazy customers and the ridiculous pay and fuck no to doing double shifts on a Friday evening.

“He’s back.” Mia whispers and get’s up as the door opens with it’s cheery bells and the Froehliche Weihnachten poster flapping carelessly in the wind as the boy appears, wearing a beanie today with snowflakes flurrying in behind him.

It’s snowing, and David hadn’t even noticed. He’s noticing now though, the flakes in the boy’s fringe, his flushed red cheeks, the snot the boy tries to wipe on his finger less gloves and the way his beautiful eyes water as Mia takes his order.

David has already pressed the brew button on the coffee machine, and placed a large mug underneath, instead of the small one the guy has ordered. His hands shaking a little as he warms the milk again. Just for something to do so he won’t have to look up as the boy takes his place on the other side of the counter.

He shouldn’t stare. But, I mean he is right there, staring down at his phone as he always does. A tiny smile on his face as he wipes his nose on his gloves again. His jacket open, and he’s once again wearing more layers than an onion. A brittle t-shirt hem visible under a sweatshirt, covered by a checked shirt and some knitted monstrosity that makes David’s eyes water with the sheer horror that someone not only once produced that thing, but also that the boy actually bought one. It’s vile.

Yeah. David. He’s no bloody fashion guru, but this jumper. Wow. He hasn’t seen the boy wearing it before but it’s clearly takes the grand prize, with it’s mish mash of yarns and colour, patterns swirled in ridiculous rows, not even matching the wine-coloured scarf thingy that the boy has lain carelessly on the counter.

“Nice jumper.” His mouth says before he can stop himself. Then he freezes in shame, and yup. That’s his face. Scarlet. What the fuck is he doing?

“T’is warm.” The guy says, and looks up. “It’s freezing out there. Snowing.”

“Yeah.” David is looking for a rope. A knife. A firing Squad?

“I ordered a small.” The boy says, pointing at the oversized cup now sitting in David’s hand. His hand that is shaking. Shaking to the point of. Yeah. Hello.

“The small one is too small.” David’s stupid mouth continues.

“I don’t need more than a small.” The boy counters, looking all confused. Rattled.

“It will last longer.” Great conversation David. Just shoot him. Now.

“It will give me heart palpitations.” The guy replies and his face is probably as red as David’s. Like he’s now weirdo arguing with the deranged Barista who can’t understand simple German nor get a coffee order right.

“Look, just take the large…” David tries as the boy reaches out, and David reaches in and… Of course he does. Nudges the steam nozzle with his elbow and then tries to catch it with his free hand, burning the shit out of the palm of his hand. 

“Fuck!” He hisses as the scolding liquid from the cup spills over his other hand and the cup swirls like in slow motion, spreading coffee everywhere until it lands on the counter in a pool dark black liquid.

“You OK?” The guy says and his hands are flapping, dripping coffee everywhere, because of course David just sprayed the dude, and here he is, soaked in it, yet his outstretched hand is pulsating with pain, as he steps back in sheer shock.

“Run it under cold water.” The guy says, looking over at Mia, who is once again engrossed in her book, and there is no one else. No one to take over as David stands there holding his hand out in front of him in disbelief as pain throbs through his fingers and he knows this stuff, all right? First aid is kind of compulsory working with hot liquids, and he has a sink right there behind him.

It’s just that he can’t move. Can’t breathe. Can’t.

“Come here, mate.” The guy says, and just like that he has dropped his bag on the floor and is ducking under the counter. Like he works there. When he doesn’t. Only employees allowed behind the counter. David can think of a million things to say, but he can’t even open his mouth as the guy grabs his arm and manhandles his body around until David is facing the sink and the dude is pressed up behind him holding his whole arm under the fast-flowing ice-cold water.

“Ahrgh!” His mouth shouts as the water hit’s the palm of his hand. Of course. He would have to go burn the most sensitive part of his hand, and then just stand there like a fool.

“Just let it run. Breathe. Ok dude?” The guys voice is soft. His breath hot against David’s cheek. A scratch of stubble against his cheek as the guy peeks over his shoulder trying to take a peek at the reddened skin under the water.

“Those big cups are shit..” David starts, then stops. He’s talking without thinking again, and the guy is..Yeah. A customer. And David not only, well, got his order wrong, but also now he is inconveniencing this customer and Mia is in his face holding his hand and shouting, and now the guy is talking to Mia, and smiling and David doesn’t quite know what is happening and then his hand is away from the water, and…

It’s kind of painful. David’s head is swimming, and yeah, it’s that feeling he gets when he hasn’t eaten for a while, and to be honest he hasn’t had breakfast yet, and then the shock of seing this boy. Man. He’s a man, David thinks, well his thoughts just won’t line up, not with Mia shouting something and the guy grunting and David wonders what on earth is going on as his vision blackens.

_It’s just a faint. _Someone says. It’s just a faint. _Can you hear me?_

“My name is Matteo. Matteo Florenzi, and you fainted dude. Can you hear me?”

Of course. David can hear him. And he now definitely believes in Christmas Miracles. Well whatever. He might realize that he is flat out on the floor, and that there is a myriad of faces staring at him from in front of the counter, all fuzzy and weird in his line of vision.

“I’m a Medical student, and I am just going to listen to you heart. Just to make sure that you are doing well. “

The guy. Oh fuck. He’s too close. Too close and he has the collar of David’s shirt in his hand and looking at him like he is asking permission, and there is a stethoscope in his hand and there is the bag on the floor and oh,… Oh. The guy starts to unbutton David’s shirt and…

“You can’t!” David screams, the panic brewing inside him.

“I can’t listen to your heart?” the guy says, and then he smiles. “I’m sure you have one, it just helps to be able to establish if there is an underlying cause for why you fainted.”

“There is nothing wrong with my heart.” David stutters, grabbing at his shirt to cover himself up.

“I’m sure your heart is wonderful.” The dude says, and if David wasn’t sure he is dreaming, it looks like the guy is actually smiling. Like really smiling.

“Wonderful?” David huffs. “What kind of Doctor are you, man?”

“General medicine, I tried Emergency medicine but it kind of freaked me out. I’m better with the small everyday things. You know, home visits, scratches and stitches and burns. Broken hearts. Shit like that.”

“Like my hand?” David says and waves a surprisingly well bandaged hand in front of his face, and then stares at it like he has seen a ghost.

“I bandaged it up, and if you can come see me at the Clinic across the road tomorrow, I can check it over again. No charge. My pleasure. “ The guy smiles again. Matteo. His name is Matteo and David loves it. David. David and Matteo.

“It was my fault.” David wants to cry. Oh god, why is this guy all of a sudden being so nice to him? And Medical student. What is that all about? He’s clearly not old enough to be a medical student.

“I can see what you are thinking. I have this baby face apparently, but I’m 24. Fourth year medical student. I know what I am doing, and I intern at the clinic there, you see across the road? Blue Cross outside? Ask for Herr Florenzi and I will come and see you. “

“Thank you.” At least David can remember to be polite it seems, as he tries to sit up, only for this dude to push his head back down in his own lap, letting his fingers nervously run through the course curls on David’s head.

“Don’t get up, people make that mistake, they faint, and then think they are all brave and stuff, then they stand up and BAM! They faint again. Happens all the time. Just lie here and chill with me. Your boss Mia there said she’s got it under control until the Barista is back on full power.”

“Full power.” David huffs.

“Now can I please just listen to your heart?” This gorgeous human in front of him says and David is swimming again. Swimming in blue eyes and pale skin and that quirky little smile the guy does. Matteo. His name is Matteo and David is not only swimming, he is practically swooning. And dying. Just a little.

“You can’t.” He whispers. Begging. Not here. Not now. Please.

“I just want to make sure you are ok.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re still pale. Your pulse is high, and I really don’t like to leave a patient with a half-hearted diagnosis.

“I can assure you that my heart is fine. Promise.” David says flatly. He can’t. How can he? No. Not here. Not ever.

“If you say so.” Matteo looks at him, his hand still fingering the collar of David’s shirt. Like he is holding on. Like he, somehow, doesn’t want to let go.

“I’m fine.” David says, trying to get back up, and succeeding. Which makes him feel disappointed in a weird way. Like he was hoping that this Matteo would hold him back. Make him stay. Lying on the hard floor with his head in the lap of a swoony….medical student. David sighs. Lets his head hang down for a second trying to get himself back under control.

“Thank you.” He says, trying to sound all stern and in control. When he is clearly not.

“Stand up gently.” Matteo says, his voice all soft, and his arms looping under David’s armpits, to hold him up. Letting him lean gently into his embrace, warm breath once again back against his neck.

“I’m fine.” David’s mouth says.

“Yeah right. I’m kind of holding you up here, mate. I have a shift to start, and I can’t stand here all day holding you upright just so the fine population of Berlin can get hold of the best coffee this side of the river.”

“It’s shite cheap coffee.” David mutters. He can’t help himself. Not with this hot as fuck guy standing here clearly…. “Are you flirting with me?”

Yeah. David needs to control his mouth. Again.

“Of course.” Comes the soft laughter from behind. “Why else do you think I have my morning coffee here, and not in the office? Because the coffee is good, the rolls are nice and the Barista is hot as fuck.”

If David could, he would have fainted again. Luckily, he can’t faint on demand, which is probably a good thing as Mia has at least 20 cups with orders lined up on the counter in front of the coffee machine, and the line is now out the door, and David can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can’t speak.

“Sorry.” Matteo says. “I’ll leave you to get on with your job. Careful with those coffee cups.”

“I’m careful.”

David wants to die.

“Come see me tomorrow, yeah?” That’s the guy. Matteo. Matteo is crawling back out from behind the counter, and David’s back is cold and his neck is still all tender from the memories of having someone stand right behind him. He can still feel arms around his chest, words whispered in his ear.

He swallows. Louder than he intended to.

“Tomorrow.” The guy says.

David nods.

He doesn’t go across the road to the clinic. He doesn’t need to. The burn is not that bad, and the guy is a medical student and Mia said he had all kinds of ointments and creams in his bag and bandaged and cleaned and put that cool gel stuff all over his palm. So, in theory he should be well on the mend. It’s just that his hand throbs like crazy and it’s really not easy to make coffee with one hand, so instead he is trying to run the cash register with one hand and wave orders to Mia on the other, whilst Mia clearly is the worst Barista Café Haug has ever seen. Even Frau Berner complained that her Espresso was too hot and too weak, and David had to remake it before she was happy and walked away staring at Mia like she was evil.

Matteo. Matteo hasn’t been back either, and it’s been what? Four days? So yeah. Not only was this Matteo dude just pulling his leg, and being all stupid, and perhaps he doesn’t even work at that clinic, knowing what David knows about dudes, he probably laughed behind David’s back and has decided to have coffee at Starbucks in the shopping mall every morning instead. Like normal people do. Like the rest of the world’s too good to be true handsome medical students. Because medical students like Matteo, do not flirt with poor Baristas who work almost full time in crappy café’s whilst trying to complete a Sports degree that will probably never lead to anything.

Well if you listen to what people say about Sports degrees. Nobody in that classroom is going to become David Beckham. Or Jurgen Klinsmann or Thomas Mueller or whatever. They are all heading for crappy jobs running basement gyms or if they are lucky grading high-schooler’s high jumps for the rest of their working careers. Anyway. It’s what David loves. He likes it. Enjoys every second, and he’s kind of really into the nutrition course he has coming up after Christmas and somehow his life isn’t that bad and things are good despite the fact that the handsome dude doesn’t come for coffee anymore and even Sara has noticed and is sulking.

_A mocha is a delicate blend of Espresso coffee mixed with half a portion of the finest Italian chocolate powder, topped with steamed milk and finished off with a dusting of flaked dark chocolate._ He reads out to himself from the spattered menue on the side. Just to calm himself down. Flaked Chocolate or splintered buttery English toffee shards. Or whatever is on the special menue today. It’s a delicate balance of smooth and sharp. Of flavours that shouldn’t have mixed but create something quite spectacular. Like a marriage of opposites. Of pieces that shouldn’t fit. Like chocolate and sharp beans. Sweetened toffee and dark bitter chocolate. David never liked it, despite trying to doctor the recipe to a more palatable drink. Mia loves it, and says David makes the best Mocha out of all the Baristas they employ. He hasn’t got the heart to tell her that it’s because he skimps on the espresso and doubles the chocolate and adds an extra teaspoon of sugar to her cup. Like he sugar-coats the truth. Like he pretends to be something that he can’t quite pull off.

It doesn’t matter. David won’t let it, despite the fact that every time he bends his little finger and winces in pain, he thinks of Matteo. His voice. His hands. Him. That smile.

He mustn’t. Honestly. Really. Seriously. He tries to speak to himself as he mops under the chairs and has to endure Mia talking to that boyfriend of his over the phone, and the mop bucket is full of grey slosh and mopping with one hand is even harder than running the cash register with one hand.

“Go home.” Mia says from the front door, holding his jacket in her hand. “Just give it up, and go home and rest. You’ve done enough.” She says, with that worried look on her face.

“But that leaves you…” He starts, but she cuts him off with a shake of her head.

“I’m fine, and anyway, the boyfriend is coming to pick me up. Just go home and rest your hand. “

He does what he is told, because it makes sense. He can’t do more, not right now, and the snow is belting down again and he has probably missed the last express bus home and will now have to sit the on the one that sightsees on every single back road out to the suburbs instead. He just wants to get home and have a shower and perhaps see if getting this bandage off his hand will make the throbbing subside. Not that he knows much about burns, more than that they hurt like hell and if this doesn’t get better soon, he is considering just amputating the damn thing.

Not that it matters right now, as he tries to shield his face from the icy snow and get his jacket to zip up to his nose with the one hand that he can get to function.

The hand on his arm almost makes him slip, and on top of that startles him to the point that he lets out an embarrassingly loud shriek. Just like that. In the middle of the crowds on the sidewalk.

“You never came.” The voice says, and David has a bit of a heart attack. Well, that’s a lie. He has one. His heart beating like a sledgehammer in his chest.

Because right in front of him is Matteo Florenzi. Medical student extraordinaire. Well what else can he say to describe the apparition that stands on the sidewalk of Schloss Strasse looking like a million dollars? Well he’s wearing a hoodie and jeans, and some kind of boots, but on top he has a white coat and there is an ID flapping from his coat pocket and the name is right there. Matteo Florenzi.

“I wasn’t lying.” Matteo says, clearly noticing David staring and awkwardly pointing at his ID.

“Never said you were lying.” David stutters out in disbelief. “Sorry. I. I just.”

“Have you got time? Come inside and I will have a look. It must hurt like hell if you haven’t changed the bandages.”

“Didn’t dare to.” David says. Stupidly. Why is he so stupid?

“Step into my office.” Matteo smiles, holding his arm out to keep the door open and stepping backwards into the medical clinic, where the waiting room is deserted. “We closed at 6 but I had some paperwork to do, and I was hoping to catch you.”

“Why?” David almost snarls. He has to learn to talk. Like a normal person.

“Because you fucking injured yourself making me a coffee, and I feel kind of guilty. “

“I messed up your order.”

“I only ever have a small one.”

“A small what?” David is stupid. David should win all the awards for being stupid.

“A small coffee. I like your small coffees, they are just right. Nice strong and hot.”

“I was going to give you a large one, on the house.”

“Thanks. But my caffeine levels can’t take more than a small one. I messed myself up in a few years back on Redbull and caffeine tablets and now my body just goes into a melt down if I have too much. I can’t even drink a latte without having a full-on panic on the inside. So yeah. But thanks. That was nice of you.”

“I’ll stick with tiny filter coffee’s then, in the future.” David laughs, smiling like a loon when Matteo smiles back, letting a little giggle slip.

“Yeah, I’ll appoint you the guardian of my caffeine intake. So, can I come back and have my morning coffee’s at Café Haug now? Your manager looked like she wanted to kill me the other morning. I didn’t dare to go in on Monday, then chickened out on Tuesday, because she just stared at me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Does she ever smile?”

“Only when her boyfriend turns up on time.”

“Ah, I see.”

“His name is Alex. He’s like super handsome.”

And David wins all the awards for stupid small talk, whilst the guy, this weird Medical student guy, has kind of dragged David down a corridor and into an exam room, and now just sits down on a chair like this is normal, gesturing to David to take the chair opposite. Then he leans over and grabs David’s arm, laying it gently on the table between them, lifting his hand to position it under the bright light.

“And you, do you smile when your boyfriend comes to see you?” That’s Matteo. And for the first time ever, there is a tremble in his voice, like his cocky persona, is cracking a little. And David thinks that maybe this Matteo, is perhaps, well not always as sure of himself as he seems. It’s funny that, how this boy, the boy of David’s daydreams, seems less and less like a boy with every minute David spends with him. Because right now, he is sitting here, handsome as hell, looking years older than his 24 years.

“Boyfriend?” He asks, quietly. It’s hard to say the word. He’s never really had one. Never found anyone he liked enough. Never found anyone who liked him back enough.

“I’m reading you right, am I?” Matteo asks quietly. “I mean, my gaydar isn’t fantastic, and I am really really sorry if I am coming on too strong here.” He looks up, and for a moment there is fear, like Matteo knows he is crossing a line, and David’s face must be a picture, because that is not usually how it goes.

“No boyfriend.” The words are kind of stuck in David’s throat. This. This here is what he can’t figure out. How to say it. Explain. Make it easy, like it’s normal. Like he is normal. Because there is nothing fucking normal about this. And there is no way he can just get up and leave, not when Matteo has his hand half unwrapped and there are broken blisters on his skin and his hand is stinging like it’s on fire and the breaths coming out of David’s mouth are suddenly far too short. Too shallow. Tears stinging in the corners of his eyes as Matteo’s glove clad hands remove the last of the bandages.

“This is what we call a Skintact plaster. It doesn’t stick to the skin as long as it’s lubricated with gel underneath. That’s why I wanted to see you the day after to remove it and put more gel on. It’s a bit dry now, which is why this hurts.”

He stops and looks up, his face softening at what must be David looking like a child. Tears and snot and pain probably written all over his face.

“I know it hurts.” Matteo says softly. “And I will make it better. Promise. Just let me remove this and I will get you all sorted. “

“It’s Ok.” David manages to whisper. It’s not. It stings like fuck and hurts. Like Hell.

“Talk to me.” Matteo says softly. “ It will help keep your mind off what I am doing. So, no boyfriend. Girlfriend?”

“No.” David breathes out, his hand jerking involuntarily in Matteo’s grip.

“So. Single. Where do you cruise? Tinder or Grindr?”

“That’s a bit…quick?” David manages to smile. “Do you always ask your patients these kind of …personal questions?”

“Only when I am trying to pick up the hot patient in front of me. And I’m kind of in a good position here, since this particular hot patient can’t go anywhere whilst I am trying to sort out his hand. Good eh? Lucky me.”

“I’m…I’m not hot.”

“You are just my type. That makes me sound creepy, but I’m not, I promise. But anyway, I’m safe for now, because this is your punching hand, and If you were going to beat me up then you have to use your left and I stand a much better chance of getting away with a bad left punch.”

“You are bloody weird.”

“Yeah. I know. I used to be shy and backwards at school, never dared to flirt and kind of messed around, until I realized that I had to play the game. You know. Cruise out there. Get laid. “ He shrugs his shoulders, making the ID on his jacket jump. “Now I just go for it, damn the consequences. I think you are hot AF. I would love to take you out for a drink.”

“A drink?” Yeah. David is smooth. Smooth as sandpaper.

“A small beer. Cocktail? Perhaps in a nice quiet bar. If I play my cards right you might let me kiss you at the end of the night. That kind of thing.”

“Ok…Ok….can we just back track for a second.” This is when David winces, because now he was trying to talk with his hands as Matteo was removing the last piece of the dried-up plaster and his hand is throbbing like a motherfucker. That was bad. Really bad.

“Shoot.” Matteo says and rips open a packet of sterile burn gel. “Let me just smother your hand with this, it’s cooling, antiseptic and will numb the pain. And ask away.”

“I don’t even know what I was trying to ask.”

“Can I make a wild guess saying you want to ask me where I cruise for hook-ups? Yes? No? And if not, can I suggest you ask me if I fancy you, and if I want to take you out for a drink?”

“Where do you ….hang out. Tinder or Grindr?”

“Totally gay me. I like men. Hot men like you. Take it or leave it.”

“Ah.”

“David.”

“You know my name?”

“Of course, I bloody know your name, how long have I been coming into that café?”

“Months?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think a drink or anything else is a good idea.” David can’t even look at the guy. This handsome beautiful man who is just too. Too perfect. To naïve. Too stupid to see what is obviously not there.

“David.”

“I just. I can’t. OK?”

Matteo doesn’t answer. Just sighs and starts to bandage up David’s mangled hand. His skin now neatly smothered in cool numbing gel and sterile gauze.

“Can… Can I tell you something? Well. Perhaps, more like, own up to something?”

Matteo doesn’t look scared. Just. Cocky. That look that surprises David every time it comes out. Because he was never cocky before, always coming in with his head down, and not really talking. Now? The shyness is gone, and instead he has this pushy man trying to talk him into something he knows will end in disaster.

“It won’t change my mind.” David counters. It won’t. He can’t risk it. Can’t risk getting his hopes up and then getting his heart broken. Life doesn’t work that way. People don’t work that way.

“Can I…at least explain?”

“Whatever.” David mutters. To be honest, he is mortified. He hates being hit on, by women or men. Hates the feeling of being out of control. Hates the embarrassment. The inevitable rejection.

“I noticed…you know the other day. I noticed…the binder.”

“Fuck.” David mutters under his breath.

“So, I didn’t come back to the café for a few days because, I kind of didn’t know how I felt about that. About you. About. You know.”

‘’It’s kind of a private thing. “ David huffs out. He doesn’t know where to look. What to do with his hand. The other one still awkwardly stuck in Matteo’s care.

“But is it all right if I ask you about it?” Matteo almost whispers. “I’m bound by law, you know. Privacy. Patient Doctor privileges and all that. I can’t tell anyone, but if you want to talk about it, I can, you know. Listen?

“I’m trans. Sorry. End of.”

“You don’t have to be all defensive with me. Nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who should apologize. I noticed, and I still pushed to check your heart beat when I should have asked if you needed privacy. I should have been more respectful but I wasn’t and I’m sorry. “

“It’s..fine. I guess.”

What on earth is he supposed to say to that?

“You _are_ trans? I got that right? No?” Matteo says softly, like he is tasting the words. Trying to soften his voice to cushion the blow.

“So, you knew?” David says, almost in disbelief.

“I’m a medical student, we are lectured on these things. Respect. Recognizing certain things. The correct terminology to use. I obviously suck at it as I haven’t even asked what pronouns you prefer.”

“I….I don’t. I’m just. Me. I’m …male.” It’s frightening to actually be asked. To confirm. He rarely has too, despite it being a frequent topic of his therapy sessions.

“Then that’s not a problem. Is it?” Matteo says and there’s that smile again. His shoulders sinking down like he is actually relieved. “You see, I didn’t dare to come back to see you this week, because, I kind of didn’t know what to say. What to think. Not about you, but about me. I didn’t know how I felt about it.”

“Well it’s a bit shit in this case, since you’re gay and I’ve kind of got all the..”

“Shush.” Matteo says sternly. “Do you know what I was going to say?”

“No?” David says and actually feels ashamed. Here he is having all his prejudice thrown in his face. Like a twat.

“No? I said to myself, I still think he’s hot. I still fancy the hell out of him. I would still rather kiss him than kiss anyone else in this city. So, does it matter? Hell no. And I still think that. I sit here and look at you and I think you are the most stunning man I have ever seen. So, I still want to take you out. Perhaps dinner?”

“I’m having my top surgery.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. December 22. Gonna be a shite Christmas.”

“Nope. Going to be a good Christmas. You will have your own personal Medical Student around to look after you. Since you already confirmed that there is no boyfriend on the horizon, I am applying for the job. If there is still an opening that is. And perhaps I should kind of ask how you identify too. You might be into girls for all I know. See? I’m still really messing up this thing. “

“Thing?”

“Yeah, me trying to invoke the miracle of Christmas by getting you to agree to let me take you out for a drink and kiss you good night. “

“I…’m not into girls.”

“Thank god for that. “ Matteo breathes out again and pulls his gloves off, throwing them in the biohazard bin on the side. “So how am I doing with getting you to change your mind? I know of a great place for sushi.”

“I’m… still.” He sinks into the chair. It’s kind of built in. The hurt radiating off him like poison. “ I’m me.”

“Yeah, and I’m me. And I think, we could. David, can we at least try? Hang out with me? Let me talk a load of bull and feed you peanuts and…”

“Shut up.”

“What?” Matteo laughs. “I never shut up. You will get to know me, once I am comfortable with someone I never shut up. It’s like built in verbal diahorrea. Constantly. Lots of it.”

“It will…you know. Never lead to anything. I’m me and you are gay and it…”

“It’s going to be a beautiful thing. You and me. I think, if we get along, and I think we will, because you make me laugh, and you’re smile makes me all.. funny. And still? You have surgery coming up and you need someone to look after you.”

“Then you will realize that this is all a joke, and I will have gotten my hopes up and then you will bloody break my heart and it will all be shit. You and I don't fit. Were like bloody Mocha, you are all sharp like expensive espresso and I am like a soft messed up melted bar of chocolate that shouldn't go anywhere near a coffee cup.”

“Do you really think I would risk my morning coffee’s? It’s the highlight of my day! If I broke your heart I would have to go elsewhere. See? I am totally invested in this! And anyway, I love a Mocha. Especially if you are making it. I would have a double, just for you. Fuck the heart palpitations.”

He’s ridiculous. This ridiculous ridiculous man.

“Come.” He says. The Medical student. The boy with the blue eyes and the smile. “Come over here.”

He moves over to the door, pulling a curtain back, revealing a mirror. A full-length mirror, where David steps into view, and Matteo gently puts his hand on his shoulder. The other of his hands grabbing David’s bandaged one. “Hold it up for a while. It will help. Just keep it up.” He whispers, before looking into the mirror and meeting David’s eyes.

“What do you see?” Matteo asks.

“Ehhr.”

“It’s a thing they did at school with us. Making us look ourselves in the mirror once in a while and question our motives. Our decisions. Our passion. I use it a lot. I just stare at myself, and sometimes I am happy with what I see. Sometimes I think I’m a freaking idiot.”

“And what do you see now?” David can’t look. His gaze firmly on his bandaged hand in the mirror, and Matteo’s hand still underneath it. Holding on.

“Look at us.” Matteo says quietly. “Look at you. And me. We fit? Don’t we? You all dark haired and pretty. Me all pale and messy. Smooth and rough.”

“Like a Toffee Crunch Mocha.” David laughs. He can’t help himself.

“That sounds a bit too sweet for me.” Matteo smiles. “Although you're sweet.”

“You would get heart palpitations if you know how sweet I can be.”

“I get heart palpitations around you anyway.”

“Idiot.”

“I know. I feel like one most of the time. But David?”

“Yeah?”

“Look at us. Look how good this could be? You and me?”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Yes, you do. You know my routine. You know how I take my coffee. You know I have terrible taste in clothes. You know I am crushing on you. Hard. You know I will be there for you, every step of the way. I don’t mess around, and I am stubborn as hell when I want something.”

“And what do you want?” David wants to cry. Wants to just stand here. Linger in the warmth as Matteo wraps his arms around his waist, letting his face come to rest on David’s shoulder.

“I want something real. Something to take the smooth with the rough. I want someone to laugh with. Someone to hug when life is shit. Someone to hug me back when I need it. I want something to last, and someone to be mine. It’s just simple like that.”

“This is never going to be simple.” David whispers.

“It will be. You and me. If you let me try? I mean, you are letting me just stand here and hold onto you, and my heart is breaking just thinking that you might walk away. Can you just stay? Please? Let me take you out and buy you dinner. Talk to me. Let me hug you.”

“What happened to the kissing?”

“Kissing?”

“You promised earlier. You said there would be kissing at the end of the evening.”

“Oh! Oh yes. I will be asking for a kiss. Kisses at the end of the evening would be wonderful.”

“You are….a little bit…wonderful.”

David isn’t lying. Right now, standing here in a deserted Doctors office, with this man holding him tight? It’s wonderful. Frightening. Terrifying. Real.

“And if I wanted to, would you? Let me…you know. Fuck, this is hard. I don’t know what you want from me!”

He can barely get the words out. Staring at Matteo in the mirror like everything will fracture if he looks away. This moment. This tiny Christmas miracle of perfection.

“Smooth and Rough. Like a mocha.” Matteo whispers. “This is never going to be easy, but I want it. I want this. I think…I think we could be good?”

“Would you kiss me if I asked? Right now?”

He can’t believe he just said that. But? This? Right here in this bubble of nothing? Matteo turns him around until they are face to face. Slowly letting his hands wander up to David’s face. Slow movements of fingertips against his cheeks as Matteo leans in and presses his lips to David’s mouth. Soft warm skin and breath on his face, his heart beating so fast he thinks he might faint.

He won’t, he knows that. He can’t faint on demand. He can’t change anything. But he can hope. Dream. Need and want.

“Again.” He whispers.

“Whatever you want.” Matteo whispers back.

The special of the day is an Americano with a touch of Cardamom. It was his own idea, but he laughs every time Mia suggests it to the unsuspecting customers. She tried it, and spat her first mouthful out in the sink. It’s not that bad, just a touch of spice and warmth to a regular coffee. Not that Mia will ever be able to sell snow to Eskimos, not with that disturbed look on her face every time she tries to pronounce Cardamom under her breath. But anyway, it’s a week until Christmas, and four days until his surgery and he’s….surprisingly fine about it all. Nervous? Of course, but happily so. Especially since he woke up this morning with a half-naked man in his bed. Especially since said man is moving in for the next two weeks to help look after him. Especially since that man is currently hanging over the counter having a glass of water. Because he does that a lot these days, hangs out in Café Haug, leaning against the counter as David produces coffee after coffee. Just one a day for Matteo though. Because that’s his job, as Matteo’s personal caffeine monitor. And boyfriend. Apparently.

“Kiss me.” Matteo demands and pouts at him, having to lean his whole body over the counter to reach.

“I’m very busy.” David laughs.

“I am very important. I have to do a home visit to administer a vitamin shot and then I have to check a patient’s broken arm in the clinic. So just come here and kiss me you silly man!”

David obliges. Of course he does. Rough stubble against his skin. Soft lips against his own as Mia shouts out another order.

“See you at 6.” Matteo says softly. “I’ll come here and pick you up.”

“See you at 6.” David responds letting his finger trace Matteo’s chin.

Rough with the smooth. Like a Mocha.


End file.
